Alina: Dragonborn
by XxAprilyne
Summary: When she turns seventeen, Alina Brandr decides to try and find her mother who left for Skyrim ten years before. Only when she arrives there, Alina gets more than she bargained for when she discovers she's the Last Dragonborn. Covers Main Quest, Civil War (Stormcloaks), Thieves Guild and Dark Brotherhood. AUish. Rated M for violence, language and implied sexual content.
1. Prelude

**A/N: This is based very loosely on my Skyrim game, but there will be things that are obviously NOT canon to the game. And this is slightly AUish, before you complain about things not fitting into the ES universe.**

**Covers: Main Quest, Civil War (Stormcloaks), Thieves Guild and Dark Brotherhood.**

**Synopsis: When she turns seventeen, Alina Brandr decides to try and find her mother who left for Skyrim ten years before. Only when she arrives there, Alina gets more than she bargained for when she discovers she's the Last Dragonborn. **

**Disclaimer: I do not own Skyrim, or any characters aside from my own, nor any dialogue present in the game. Everything else belongs to Bethesda. This applies to the whole story, because I don't feel like putting a disclaimer on every chapter.**

* * *

**_Prelude._**

Snow was rather frequent in Bruma, which was why Alina's mother convinced their father to move away ages ago to a more sunny part of Cyrodiil. And because Alina's mother hated Bruma, she had no idea why they were going back.

"Mommy," she began, tugging on her mother's hand, "I don't like it here. Why can't we go home?"

Alina's mother pulled her hand away from her daughter's quickly, not bothering to answer her daughter.

"Mommy!"

"Because it's not safe at home," her mother then said. "Now hush."

The city guard gave the two very strange looks. Alina's mother could only imagine why. A young girl and her mother wondering around a city late at night wasn't an average sight.

It was only then that Alina's mother was now in the richer part of the city. She knocked on the door of one of the mansions in the city and an older woman opened it.

"Raven?" she began, her expression a mix between anger, confusion and relief. "What are you doing here? Where's Emil?"

Alina's mother's - Raven's - expression was then somber.

"Dead."

The older woman's expression changed as well. It was also somber.

"Won't you let us come in?" Raven asked, and then she felt her daughter tremble. "There's something I must discuss with you."

* * *

"Alina," Raven began, getting down to her daughter's level. "I'm going away for awhile."

Alina was a seven year old girl. The shape of her face was more like her father's family but her jet black hair and azure blue eyes were more likes hers. Alina was smart for her age, but she was still a child nonetheless.

"When will you be back?" Alina questioned.

Raven shook her head.

"Not for a long time," she said. "Be good for your grandparents, will you, sweetheart?"

Raven then left her husband's parent's house and began pondering where she would go.

First she would go to Skyrim. Then after that, she'd have to wait and see.


	2. The Truth

**_Chapter one: The Truth._**

"Why you little thief!" Anya Eniette cried after me. "Guards!"

I shook my head, ran and turned a corner as the guards continued chasing after me.

"Get back here, girl!" I heard them cry after me. I laughed and then felt someone's hand grab ahold of my shoulder.

My uncle Roland.

"No need," he said harshly to the guard who had been chasing after me. "I'll pay the fine and after that, I promise you that it will never happen again."

My uncle glared at me, the anger in his voice and actions apparent.

He then let go of my shoulder abruptly, causing me to fall to the floor.

"I'm disappointed in you, Alina," Uncle Roland said sternly. "Your aunt and I and your grandparents already have enough to deal with taking care of your great-grandfather. We don't need to deal with this as well."

I snorted. "Uncle, you and Aunt Mia are _always _disappointed in me."

"Enough of your impudence, Alina," he snapped, "by the Eight, you remind me so much of that mother of yours."

I raised my eyebrow. "My mother?"

I could barely remember my mother. Only vague flashes of a woman with dark, black hair and bright, blue eyes not much different to my own come to mind when I try to remember her. The woman took off and left me with my grandparents ten years ago. I was almost seventeen.

"Just follow me back home, girl," my uncle snapped.

* * *

Home was a huge log cabin with more than enough room for me, my grandparents, my aunt, uncle and cousin and my great-grandfather Brandr, who was dying. My great grandfather was an old, blind man who was born a hundred years after the Oblivion crisis, making him a hundred or so. Certainly older than most. Now, he lay dying in his room. It was a wonder he held on this long. My grandmother - his daughter - was in her fifties. But she still took care of her father. I was fond of my great-grandfather, who told us plenty of tales of _his _great-grandmother, Haema, and how _she_ knew the famed Hero of Kvatch. There was a statue of her outside my bedroom window. Even though her name had been lost to time, her gallant deeds and her love for Martin Septim had not. I once used to go outside and look at the statue for ages, looking for something. The woman's smile kind of reminded me of my mother's smile from when I used to know her. The smile was gentle and kind.

As soon as I returned home, my aunt and uncle marched me up to my room. Admittedly, what I had done wasn't a good deed, but their daughter Rosteri pickpocketed from plenty of the residents of Bruma and had been caught more times than even I could count. But Roland and Mia let her off. If _I _put one toe out of line, they didn't forget or forgive.

Not long after I had been sent to my room, there was a knock on the door.

"Yes?" I asked. It was my grandmother, only I called her 'Grandmommy' and my grandfather 'Granddaddy.' My great-grandfather was refered to as 'grandfather.'

"Grandfather would like to see you, Alina," my grandmother said.

I narrowed my eyes.

"I thought I was being punished?"

My grandmother nodded. "You are. But Grandfather doesn't care about that, Alina. He wants to see you regardless."

I jumped off the bed and followed my grandmother out of the room. My aunt, who was folding away bedsheets, gave us a wary look.

"She's supposed to be punished, Ma," she snapped. My grandmother sighed.

"Yes, but my father would like to see her."

Aunt Mia snorted her contempt, but didn't question it. Something that was unusual for her to do. Ever since she, Uncle Roland and Rosteri moved in two years ago, it seemed that they made the rules for the house, not my grandparents.

I entered my great-grandfather's room. He wasn't just old, he was blind as well. He had been blind for years; I was younger, before I was even born, in fact. When I was younger, he did tell me tales of our Nordic heritage. Mommy never used to tell me anything in the way of tales the way Grandfather did. As I grew older, I understood some of the tales a bit more. I could have sworn I saw an amulet of Talos somewhere in the room - and the Great White Concordat outlawed the worship of Talos. Grandfather was too stubborn to let go of worshiping all of the Nine Divines.

"You wanted to see me?" I asked. My great-grandfather lifted his head.

"Is that you, Alina?" he croaked. I nodded, but then felt the need to kick myself for it. Grandfather was blind. I then replied with a quick "yes" before the old man requested I sit down in the chair beside his bed.

"What is it, Grandfather?" I asked. "Is something wrong?"

"No..." he then coughed. "I mean...yes. Something is rather wrong...but I may as well as you to listen to the wishes of a dying old man..."

I raised my eyebrows. "What are you talking about?"

The old man coughed again. "It begins with your mother...my daughter and her husband have sugarcoated it for you...hoping to hide you from the truth...about where she...about where she went..."

"Where did she go, Grandfather?" I demanded, anger now sweeping into my voice. "Where's Mommy?"

"...my grandson's wife ran away to _our _homeland after she brought you here," my great-grandfather said. "She was unfit for him and our life anyway. She was using him...she was hiding...biding her time..."

"Biding her time?" I asked.

"She said she...she had family in Skyrim," he continued. Grandfather then coughed again. "I've been holding out long enough to...to tell you the truth..."

I narrowed my eyes, even though I knew he wouldn't see me do so.

"You must go to Skyrim and find your mother...tell her..."

But we didn't know where she was.

"...tell her..."

He then stopped breathing.

"Grandmommy!"

It wasn't my grandmother who heard my calls; it was my Aunt Mia.

"What is it?" she snapped.

I felt tears on my cheeks now.

"It's Grandfather," I say, "he's dead."

* * *

Grandfather requested to be buried in the Family crypt not to far from the city. If the funeral was hard on me and Rosteri, my wonderful cousin, it was even harder on my grandmother. But after we went home, I heard my aunt and uncle tell her to move on. I shook my head in disgust.

"What do you think they're going to do?" Rosteri asked me, her green eyes suddenly growing bigger. She was only twelve, and Grandfather had been kind to her as well.

"I don't know," I said. I wasn't entirely there anymore. I was thinking about what Grandfather said about Skyrim. Mommy had hated the cold...why would she want to go there?

* * *

"Alina," my grandmother said to me as I was about to leave the house. "Where are you going?"

I sighed.

"I'm going to leave, Grandmommy," I said. "Grandfather wanted me to."

She raised an eyebrow.

"He what?"

"He wanted em to go to Skyrim," I said. "He wants me to..."

My grandmother coughed.

"...find my mother," I finished.

Grandmommy's expression changed. I identified her fear almost immediately.

"I don't think you should, Alina," she replied.

"Why not?" I asked. My grandmother sighed.

"It might be dangerous...in fact, I _know _how dangerous it will be."  
I shook my head. "It doesn't matter. I need to find out what happened to Mommy."

My grandmother sighed.

"At least wait until your birthday."

* * *

**A/N: In case you haven't played the previous games, the Hero of Kvatch was the protagonist of The Elder Scrolls IV: Oblivion. And no, there was no canonical romance between he/she and Martin (though there should have been).  
**

**She'll be mentioned a few more times in the story.  
**


	3. Brothers and Sisters in Binds

_**Chapter two: Brothers and Sisters in Binds**_

I did wait until my birthday. When I turned seventeen, I left and didn't look back.

Now the cold mountain air of Skyrim began to blow across my face and my long dark hair swept back across my eyes, but I brushed it back and continued onwards. I had little money, and certainly not enough to make it across the border, no matter how much my grandmother begged of my aunt and uncle. They were too selfish to give up some of our household funds for me to go to Skyrim. So I decided to go myself, with only a petty amount of two hundred Septims.

The cold here may have frozen people of other races to death, but I was a Nord; the cold here was nothing but a minor annoyance, due to the snow storm. I cursed myself after I fell over on the rocks. I only hoped there would be a small town somewhere that I could get a job until I could go to a bigger city and find out what my so-called destiny was. Grandfather Brandr never told me anything except that I had to find my mother. And that certainly wasn't helpful. My destiny was probably to serve as a barmaid.

_Where could my mother have gone?_

As I began nearing a small town, I began fumbling in my bag for some gold to pay an innkeeper. Soldiers were rounding up prisoners into carriages nearby, and unfortunately, one of the soldiers spotted me.

"Look!" he cried. "There's another one!"

I _ran._

It was a stupid thing for me to do, I'll admit. But I did it anyway. I wasn't thinking.

But eventually, another soldier caught me by my wrist.

"Well, aren't you a pretty little thing?" he began. "What's someone like you doing with the Stormcloaks?"

"I don't know what's going on," I confessed. "Now, just let me go!"

The soldier shook his head.

"Lying isn't going to get you anyplace good, young woman."

"I'm not lying!" I insisted. "I just wanted to get into Skyrim. Now let me go!" I kicked his leg. The soldier doubled over in pain, but wouldn't let go of my wrist. But he managed to get up.

"Men," he shouted, "we have an illegal immigrant here!"

All of a sudden, I was shoved into the back of a carriage, my hands tied together. And then I fell asleep.

* * *

"Hey, you," I heard someone say, "you're finally awake."

I sat up and then began feeling immense pain at the back of my skull. _Dammit, I must have hit it hard, _I think.

"What the hell happened?" I asked. The person sitting across from me - a blond Nord whose name I later learnt was Ralof - gave me a sympathetic look.

"You were trying to cross the border, right?" he asked. I nodded. "You walked right into that Imperial ambush, same as us. And that thief over there," Ralof said, nodding towards a young Nord thief who was glaring at Ralof angrily.

"Damn you Stormcloaks," the thief spat. "Skyrim was fine until you came along. Empire was nice and lazy."

I snorted. From the ramblings my grandfather said while I was growing up, I was lead to believe the Empire was _never _nice and lazy.

"If they hadn't been looking for you, I could have stolen that horse and been halfway to Hammerfell," The thief continued. He then looked towards me. "You there, you and me - we shouldn't be here. It's these Stormcloaks the Empire wants."

I shook my head. "I'm not siding with anyone."

"We're all brothers and sisters in binds now, thief," Ralof interjected quickly. "And we may as well get to know each other while we're on this long journey. I'm Ralof."

"Lokir," the thief said. Everyone was now looking at me.

"I'm Alina," I say quickly.

There was an awkward silence before Lokir broke it, "and what's wrong with him?"

I hadn't even noticed the Noble beside Ralof who was not only bound like the rest of us, but gagged.

"Watch your tongue," Ralof said coldly. "You're speaking to Ulfric Stormcloak, the _true _High King. Show some respect!"

Lokir's expression changed from anger to fear.

"Ulfric? The Jarl of Windhelm? But you're the leader or the rebellion...so if they've captured you...oh, gods, where are they taking us?!"

I began to wonder exactly the same thing.

"What village are you from, horse thief?" Ralof asked. Lokir glared at him. "Why do you care?"

"A Nord's last thoughts should be of home," Ralof replied. I heard Lokir sigh before saying, "...Rorikstead. I - I'm from Rorikstead."

I then panicked. From everything I could gather, we were being sent to our deaths. Death without trial. But then again, trial was an ancient concept, I thought. The Thalmor controlled everything, at least according to my grandfather.

A gate swung open, and our carriage kept on going. Now we were in a small area with buildings. I heard Ralof mention something about Helgan; how it was an area where they decided prisoners fates. Lokir began muttering the names of the Eight Divines under his breath.

"Look at him," Ralof hissed, nodding towards a high ranking general with Altmer by his side. "General Tullius the Millitary Governer, and it looks like the Thalmor are with him. Damn elves. I bet they had something to do with this."

I looked at the Altmer standing beside Tullius, their faces cold and accusing. "Gee, I wonder why," I muttered sarcastically.

"Get those prisoners out of the carriages," I heard someone bark. "Go on. MOVE!"

Slowly, everyone was marched out of their carts.

"Empire loves their damned lists," I heard Ralof mutter bitterly. At first I was unsure what he was talking about, but then I saw a soldier who was glancing back and forth between us and the piece of paper in her hands.

"Ulfric Stormcloak, Jarl of Windhelm," I heard her announce. Ulfric stepped forwards, still bound and gagged. I shook my head sympathetically.

"It has been an honor, Jarl Ulfric," Ralof said to him, his fear showing on his face just as much as everyone else's.

"Ralof of Riverwood," I heard the reader announce again. "Let's go," Ralof said quickly afterwards, "shouldn't keep the Gods waiting."

I looked behind me to see more prisoners.

"No," I replied, "we shouldn't."

"Lokir of Rorikstead."

"NO!" I heard Lokir cry out, anger and fear apparent in his voice. "No! I'm not a rebel! You can't do this to me!"

Tullius and the Thalmor exchanged looks.

"You're not going to kill me!" Lokir cried out again, before running towards the nearest path. A soldier then drew a bow and shot in Lorkir's direction.

"Anyone else feel like running?" the Captain nearby asked.

Silence.

"Didn't think so," she smirked.

It was my turn now. My turn to go to the chopping block. But the reader continued glancing towards the list and back to me.

"You!" the captain demanded. "Who are you?"

"My name is Alina," I said, my voice sounding surprisingly calm. The reader looked confused. "Captain? What should we do? This girl's not on the list."

The Captain gave me a sympathetic look before turning stern again. "It doesn't matter. They all go to the block like it has been discussed."

The reader shook his head before I heard one of the elves say, "you heard the Captain, the block. NOW!"

I jumped a little.

"At least you get to die here," Ralof whispered. "In your homeland."

I rolled my eyes. "My homeland is Cyrodiil. I may have Nordic roots, but that's where I was born and raised."

"You know what I mean," Ralof sighed. We then kept going towards the chopping block.

A Priestess of Arkay was now in sight. "As we command our souls to-"

"Oh, for the love of Talos," an Imperial soldier snapped, "shut up already!"

I flinched when the first prisoner was beheaded. I had never seen anything so horrible in my life. Though, I had the feeling it was about to get a lot worse.

"Next prisoner!" the Captain called out. I hesitated. "I said, _next prisoner," _the Captain yelled again, anger seeping into her voice.

I began to step forwards, towards the chopping block that awaited me. But then fire landed on the tower in front of me, the stone changing charcoal black in color. I looked up to the sky to see what the problem was.

There was a dragon in the sky.

"The Eight must be playing tricks," I mutter. "Well, it isn't working."

I blinked.

The large, scaly, black dragon was still flying above us. And it wasn't just me who saw, because everyone else was screaming and running for their lives.

* * *

**A/N: Reviews are appreciated.**


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